


Bonsoir

by thecannabiskid



Series: Sold my soul to a three-piece [2]
Category: Mr. Robot - Fandom
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, tyrell is a pta mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4645167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecannabiskid/pseuds/thecannabiskid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrell arranges for Elliot to spend the day at Evilcorp</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonsoir

**Author's Note:**

> Tyrell Wellick is an angry PTA mom none of you can convince me otherwise

            He can’t do it. He’s high when he sees Tyrell again and he’s sent home immediately with a disapproving look from the man. He doesn’t even go with him. Sends him in a car with his driver. Fuck. “Take him,” were his exact words. He only glanced up at him and Elliot had shifted his backpack on his shoulder before being escorted out. How did he know? Was it that obvious when he was high? Maybe he moved his eyes too much.

            His phone buzzes the second his front door closes behind him.

            (2:47pm)

            _If you cannot behave we end this._ Fuck. _Fuuuuuuck_. He fucked up.

            Shayla comes over. “Not now,” he groans and she’s pushing past him.

            “Brought pizza,” she says and she sets it on the counter. “Elliot you have to eat.” It’s plain cheese pizza. He likes plain cheese pizza. He eats four slices and Shayla looks pretty satisfied.

 

            He wakes up to his phone buzzing and someone pounding on his door. Flipper is panicking, running around in circles in front of the door and she starts barking when she sees Elliot sit up. He taps the green button on his phone. “Hello?”

            “Good morning, Elliot, you’ll be coming to my office today.”

            “I have work,” he’s getting up, he can hear Shayla yelling.

            “You’ll be working with me today,” there’s a pause. “I’ve sent a car.” He’s pulling his front door open.

            “Your driver is at my door,” he murmurs and Shayla is livid.

            “People are trying to sleep!” Tyrell laughs on the other end and Elliot is apologizing softly.

            “Can I have a minute?”

            “Of course,” Tyrell’s voice is a purr and his driver is looking at his phone. He heads down the stairs.

            “You’re not even gonna say sorry? Asshole!” Shayla shouts and Elliot hushes her. “Do you know that fucking asshole, El?”

            “Shayla, go back _inside_ ,” Elliot says and she does. Tyrell is laughing.

            “I don’t think I’ve heard you use that tone of voice before,” Elliot panics. “I’ll see you soon, Elliot.” The other line clicks and there’s dial tone.

 

            He showers, pulls on his regular work garb and puts on his hoodie. “Shayla,” he’s knocking on her door. “Shayla come on,” it takes her a minute to open the door. She doesn’t look entirely thrilled. “Need you to watch Flipper,” he says and he’s handing her fifty bucks along with Flipper’s leash.

            “No, Elliot, I don’t want your money,”

            “Might be back a little later, take it Shayla.” He shifts his bag over his shoulder and she stops trying to hand the fifty back to him.

            “Well…. Have a good day,” she says and Elliot makes a face before heading down the stairs.

            The driver opens his car door. It’s weird. This must be what it feels like to be Tyrell Wellick. He catches the time on the clock. It’s barely six in the morning.

            “Sir,” Elliot jumps. “We’re here.” He fell asleep. He doesn’t go to work until almost nine, usually. Fuck. Someone offers him coffee and he nods so quickly he feels like his neck might snap.

            Tyrell is happy to see him. That’s nice. It’s nice to be a source of happiness. Not worth being anywhere before nine in the morning but still nice. Someone hands him a cup of coffee and he drains it before the door shuts. “Good morning, Elliot.” He’s moving Elliot to sit down on the couch. “You look exhausted.” Elliot nods, “do you not sleep well?” Elliot blinks up at him. That’s a little personal. Does he answer?

            “N-not really,” he whispers and Tyrell is crouching down in front of him, checking his eyes.

            “We’ll work on that,” he says softly and Elliot frowns. Tyrell makes a face at him. “You have to be well rested and sharp to make it to the top.” He says it like it’s common knowledge. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s been slacking.

            “Like where I am.” He stifles a yawn.

            “Rest, Elliot,” and he gives him a concerned look. “I’ll wake you when I need you.” He waits for Tyrell to sit at his desk before pulling his hoodie up and resting back against the arm of the couch.

            He dreams in broken pieces. Talking to Mr. Robot. Taking down Evilcorp.

           

            “Elliot,” he jumps, there’s a hand in his hair and he blinks up at Tyrell. “Need you to wake up; we’re sitting in on a meeting in ten minutes.” Elliot sits up, Tyrell is fixing his hair and he freezes up. It’s almost annoying but it’s over just as soon as it started so he doesn’t say anything. “You have to take the jacket off,” Tyrell says softly and Elliot nods, unzips and leaves the garment on the couch.

            “Okay.”

           

            He feels _severely_ underdressed. Suits. All of them. Expensive suits, he can’t pronounce a name Tyrell says when he compliments one of the men at the table. “This is Elliot Alderson,” his name sounds nice on Tyrell’s tongue. “He’s considering a job with us.” Elliot tenses up and Tyrell lets him sit.

            Tyrell watches him and it’s a little unnerving. He starts the meeting off, standing at the head of the table and Elliot keeps catching his eye. God he’s fucked. Tyrell sits next to him when he’s done speaking, his hand brushes against his thigh and he breathes an apology Elliot knows he doesn’t mean. His leg brushes against his while he answers questions, Elliot is on edge. He feels like he’s going to snap. Why is he even here? God, Tyrell flashes him a smile and Elliot groans, turns it into a cough and Tyrell focuses on the meeting, gives Elliot a break.

 

            “So where do you work, Elliot?” The meeting is finished and Tyrell wants him back in his office. “What do you do?”

            “I’m…. I, uh, just a tech,” Tyrell thrums his fingers against the table. When Elliot looks at him, a little helpless, he interrupts.

            “I have to get Elliot familiar with our systems,” He says and the man frowns. “Elliot,” he fights the shiver that runs down his spine and offers a whispered apology before following Tyrell back to his office.

            “Sorry,” he says and Tyrell is closing his office door.

            “Nothing to apologize for, Elliot,” Tyrell says and Elliot feels the need to apologize again. Fuck. “Jim doesn’t know how to stop talking; it was good I pulled you away when I did.” Elliot nods slowly. He doesn’t like talking so he’s glad Tyrell pulled him away. He still feels a little bad and Tyrell can see it on his face. “We should go out,” Tyrell says with a smile.

            “You’re married.” Elliot deadpans and Tyrell lets out a stunned laugh.

            “I meant go out for lunch, Elliot,” Elliot lets out an embarrassed laugh and grabs his jacket. He needs to get out of here. Right now. Right fucking now.

            “Should go home, think I forgot to…. Feed my fish, gotta feed Qwerty.”

            “Elliot,” Tyrell catches him by the hand and Elliot jerks back and gives Tyrell a wide eyed look. “Elliot, it’s okay.” He says and he steps closer, slowly, like he’ll spook him.

            “Not hungry,” He is, actually, but Tyrell doesn’t need to know that. He probably knows he’s lying. He just needs to leave. Fucking _idiot._ He can’t believe he said that. Fuck. _Fuck_.

            “So your stomach didn’t growl during the meeting?” When had Tyrell gotten so close? God he smells good. Elliot watches his mouth, his own hangs open as he tries to find an excuse. His eyes dart up to Tyrell’s and Tyrell smiles. He kisses the pout of Elliot’s bottom lip. “You can decline, you won’t hurt my feelings, but I do know you’re lying.” If he eats will Tyrell kiss him like that again?

            “Okay,” he whispers and he can feel himself shaking.

            “I promise I’m not going to eat you, Elliot, relax.” He laughs and Elliot jumps, gasps when Tyrell pats him on the back.

 

            Tyrell sweet-talks him into getting coffee. Vanilla latte. God he’s weak for an overpriced cup of coffee and Tyrell knows it. He buys out all these cake ball things and gets a coffee with several shots of espresso. Caramel and chocolate coat the inside of the cup. He hadn’t taken Tyrell as someone with a sweet tooth. He gets them a table in the very back of the Starbucks. “ _Joanna skulle döda mig,_ ” Elliot gives him a look. Tyrell laughs, and shakes his head. “My wife would kill me if she saw me eating this,” Tyrell explains and Elliot nods slowly. Does his wife know about what they did? He gets shaken from his thoughts when Tyrell moans around his straw. “She’s gone completely mad, cleared the house of everything sweet.” Elliot would be a fucking liar if he said he wasn’t hard. Jesus. That one noise having this effect on him. He shifts in his seat.

            “Sounds awful,” Elliot is good at small talk, he can do this.

            He watches Tyrell eat one of the cake pops whole, teeth scraping against the stick it’s on. He holds a hand over his mouth before speaking.

            “Take one,” he insists and Elliot’s never tried them. It’s obnoxious. The color, pink, he takes a bite. Fuck. It’s good. Tyrell smiles at him before sighing. “Buying all of them might not have been my smartest idea,” his voice is soft and Elliot watches him eat another. “But if I want something, well, _Jag tar det._ ” A chill runs down Elliot’s spine and Tyrell sips at his drink, looks around the store before settling icy eyes on him.

            “Does your wife know?” Elliot says quickly and Tyrell chokes on his drink.

            “About the sweets?” Elliot frowns.

            “Cut the bullshit,” he snaps and Tyrell smiles.

            “Oh, I’m enjoying this,” Tyrell breathes and Elliot’s hands are shaking. He bites his bottom lip. “We have an open marriage, Elliot.” He’s finished half his drink and he’s offering Elliot the last cake pop. He eats it and Tyrell is collecting the trash to throw away. Elliot follows him and they head back to Evilcorp.

 

            He listens as Tyrell talks on the phone, his voice goes from charming to angry very fast and Elliot moves closer. He ends up on his laptop, sitting on the floor next to Tyrell’s chair. “ _Om jag gav ett fan_ , _listen_ , I’ll tell you why you’re wrong, Jeremy.” Elliot looks at Tyrell who holds the phone against his shoulder. “This guy is a fucking idiot,” he breathes and Elliot lets out a stunned laugh as Tyrell smiles. “That’s a good point, Jeremy, really, and it might sound like I’m hanging up but,” he slams the phone down on the receiver and Tyrell runs a hand through his hair. “God damn fucking idiot,” he hisses at the phone and Elliot watches him. It’s like watching a snake bite a person. A tight coil before it snaps forward and Tyrell has the phone in his hand, fingers flying across the buttons. “Joanna, _Jag kan inte göra detta._ ” Elliot tenses at his wife’s name. He looks defeated, hair a mess, he’s loosening his tie. “Vill döda dem,” he hears a laugh on the other end of the phone and Tyrell is hanging up. He looks at Elliot and Jesus he looks defeated.

 The phone rings and Tyrell answers it. His jaw sets and Elliot is setting his laptop to the side, moves on his knees and Elliot lets his fingers brush over Tyrell’s thigh. Tyrell is looking at him, Elliot presses his index finger against his lips. Quiet. If one of them doesn’t calm down he might fucking snap. He can see Tyrell swallow. He moves his chair back and Elliot situates himself under the desk.

He’s never done this before. God, he shouldn’t be doing this now but if Tyrell _yells_ again he might throw himself out a window. He can’t stand it. Puts him on edge and his hands shake a little. He smooths them over Tyrell’s thighs.

His dick is tucked against his left thigh; Elliot drags his fingers over the quickly growing length. Switches from his fingers to his mouth and Tyrell sighs, “you’re not boring me, Jeremy, please get to the point,” Tyrell says between gritted teeth and he watches Elliot. He unzips Tyrell’s pants, removes him and swallows hard. He wasn’t wearing briefs. “I don’t like creases,” Tyrell murmurs, phone against his shoulder and Elliot gives him a wide eyed look and Tyrell returns his focus to his call.

Elliot drags his lips up Tyrell’s length before pulling the head into his mouth and the hand that finds its way to his face is warm. He watches Tyrell as he takes more of his cock, teeth accidently drag against the underside of his prick and Tyrell hisses. “Teeth,” and Elliot can hear the man on the phone demand an explanation. “If you keep talking I will _pull_ my _own_ teeth out and _mail_ them to you.” He says it all on one breath, the room is quiet, Elliot’s noises sound louder in the silence. Tyrell puts the phone on the receiver and Elliot swallows around him. “Elliot,” his name sounds even better on Tyrell’s tongue when he’s breathless and there’s a knock at the door. Elliot’s being pushed farther back under the desk and he can feel Tyrell stiffen up.

“Sir,” he hears the click of heels, Tyrell’s hand is still on his face. Elliot doesn’t stop bobbing his head. “You…. You don’t look so well sir,” Elliot sucks hard on the head and Tyrell groans.

“I should be fine,” his voice shakes. “Ju-just in case, canc-cancel my meetings.”

“Of course,” heels click and then the door shuts and Elliot pulls off his cock, lets Tyrell push his chair back. Elliot looks up at him, he’s flushed. Elliot moves forward, strokes Tyrell’s spit slicked length and he watches him bite his knuckles. Elliot swallows him down again and moans when the head of his dick hits the back of his throat.

“Gonna swallow all of it, Elliot,” Tyrell pants, his voice as firm as his current state will allow. Elliot hums again and when Tyrell cums he swallows. Chokes when he pulls back and Tyrell is cleaning himself the best he can with tissues. He doesn’t like mess, Elliot watches him. He’s checking his pulse, pushes his hair back and after a minute he situates his pants. Elliot moves back to his laptop and Tyrell is still a little breathless.

 

“I’ve got a car waiting for you,” Tyrell says. “Unfortunately I have a dinner party to attend.” Elliot grabs his backpack and Tyrell pulls him forward by the straps once it’s settled on his back. “Thank you for coming today, Elliot, work was…. _Enjoyable_ for once.”

“O-okay,” he wants to kiss him but Tyrell is letting him go. “I was…. Can I,” _spit it out_ , “kiss you?” Tyrell smiles.

“ _Can_ you?” He’s teasing him. “Elliot,”

“May I?” Elliot says slowly. The change in Tyrell’s eyes is quick. Hungry. He’s cupping Elliot’s face, kisses him hard and Elliot feels the air leave his lungs. Tyrell bites him, pulls a moan from Elliot, soothes his tongue over the mark before pulling back.

“I’ll walk you out.” Tyrell says and Elliot is trying to catch his breath. Tyrell looks smug. “Wasn’t that good,” he laughs and Elliot doesn’t think he’d be able to handle whatever Tyrell considers _good_ without cumming in his pants. He follows Tyrell outside.

“Thank you,” Elliot says, stares at Tyrell’s shoes. “Uh…. For coffee,” Tyrell’s hand is on his shoulder.

“Next time we’ll go somewhere more private,” there it is again. _Next time._ Of course there will be a next time, they have some sort of contract, unspoken. He keeps thinking Tyrell will get sick of him. It’s only been three days but still. “This is my car, Elliot, I’ll see you soon.” Elliot watches him. He should say _bonsoir._

“Bonsoir, Tyrell.” His voice shakes bad and Tyrell’s head tilts back and he laughs.

               “Bonsoir, Elliot.” He calls and he’s getting into the car. Joanna looks at Tyrell.          

               “  _Så er, at den nye leget_ ø  _j?_ ”

               ”Not a toy, Joanna.” Tyrell sighs.

               ”Mmm, you have  _følelser._  Dangerous, Tyrell.”

               ”I know.”

 

               Shayla isn’t home with Flipper so he heads inside his apartment, falls back on his bed. ”This is some kind of fucking joke.” He says softly. He gets up. He has to hack Tyrell Wellick.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Joanna asks if that's the new toy, referring to Elliot at the end. Tyrell Wellick also has the worlds worst sweet tooth and the drink he ordered is on a Starbucks secret menu it's like the caramel turtle or something, it's like seven bucks and very sweet and very delicious I recommend it if you feel like blowing some cash on coffee. I've only done it with one shot of espresso, I think two would ruin the taste but oh well.


End file.
